


Gray Area

by fowl68



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Backstory, Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, Concentration Camps, Desians, Dubious Morality, F/M, Gen, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowl68/pseuds/fowl68
Summary: There is something familiar about Botta, Yuan decides. A survival and protective instinct so powerful, it's willing to overlook terrible sins. Not that Yuan had room to talk. They'd all said "Damn the world" if it had meant that there's a possibility of seeing someone they love alive and happy one more time.





	

* * *

_Who's the real you? The person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? Is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?_  
-Rebecca Stead (Goodbye Stranger)  


* * *

Desian money was good money. Of that, there was never a doubt. It was hard work, guarding prisoners, travelling constantly with the supply trains, performing raids while searching for traitors. Botta was spared a lot of it; as it turned out, he was pretty good with technology, so he was usually stuck doing maintenance work and keeping the security systems running smoothly. For the work he was doing, it was _very_ good money. Low risk, high pay off. His favorite kind. Whether he believed in this 'Age of Half-Elves' was irrelevant; the money kept he and his little sister fed and clothed, and it paid for her medicine. It got them a little apartment in Thoda whose roof didn't leak and was still close enough to the ranch that Botta could go home after work rather than sleep in the barracks.

When he was called up to Magnius' office, he assumed it was because he'd made a mistake somewhere. Botta was very good at his job, but mistakes happened.

He hadn't expected to be promoted to head of security. And what a nice raise _that_ was.

"There've been leaks in information," Magnius told him. "And this system is old."

"So you want an entire redesign of the systems?" Botta asked, mind already whirring. "What's my budget?"

Magnius grinned. "You figure out the security. I'll get you the money. We can always raise taxes."

So Botta did. He fiddled with the teleporter technology that was already used to get around the base, but Magnius was right. It _was_ old. He had to upgrade and streamline the technology while still making it compatible with the computer systems they were working with—Magnius might not care about raising taxes, but Botta had been there and the taxes were high enough. He repurposed several central hallways, and added a dozen more teleporters.

"They'll lead to false positives," Botta explained to Magnius. The blueprints were spread out on the table. "There are a total of six hallways I've repurposed, mostly leading to the barracks and the like. Nothing particularly useful if someone _does_ manage make it that far. However, there is only one correct path that leads up here. It can be accessed with the proper clearance, for ease of use, but otherwise, there are a minimum of twenty-four possible paths they can take."

"I like it. Implement it immediately."

When the upgrade was done, Botta led Lord Kratos through the base, showcasing the new security.

"Very thorough," Kratos said. "Particularly the accessibility to the workers."

"Thank you, sir."

_(Lord Kratos is as generally empty of emotion as the other angels Botta has met, which are, admittedly, not many. He's heard stories of the Kharlan War, and what a terrifying enemy Kratos Aurion can make. While Botta can see the threat, he gets the impression that Lord Kratos is not a violent man)_

* * *

Botta went home to Thoda often enough. Perhaps not every day, but generally five days out of seven. His sister Irina had had a chronic cough since they were children—not always bad, with the medication. Without the medicine, she nearly coughed up a lung a day. The problem being that the medicine from Luin was expensive.

At sixty-two years old—hardly middle age for a half-elf—his sister was dainty, her frizzy brown hair usually braided so that the sea breeze didn't tangle it further. She had a broad smile and a smart mouth with dreams too large for the little seaside village.

On his rare days off, Botta would still wake early from habit, but he would make the coffee that Irina insisted came out better than hers, though she made it the exact same way, and he fried up some eggs. Cooking was rather therapeutic, he thought. Even if he wasn't great at it.

"So what's the plan for today?" Irina asked, yawning. The apartment was tiny, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and the kitchen and dining room were combined. Their landlord had agreed to rent it to them at a discount though, for help with small repairs from Botta and help with the laundry and such from Irina.

"Anything. Today, I'm all yours."

"Lucky me," Irina said dryly, making Botta laugh.

They went out to the little market—everything in this village was little—and they looked at jewelry and Botta waited patiently while she tried on dresses in from Palmacosta. He liked doing it; liked seeing his sister happy and playful.

It had been four years since her husband had died of pneumonia and she'd come back to live with him. Irina had been a shell of herself back then. She was paranoid about Botta's health now, always making sure he rested and got vitamins when he had so much as a sneeze.

She looked better these days, smiling more, with some of her old energy back, but she still wasn't the same outgoing girl he remembered. Perhaps she never would be.

It was as they were paying for crab sandwiches smothered in butter and lemon that a messenger ran panting to Botta.

"Sir—an emergency. Magnius requested you immediately."

Botta sighed, even as Irina kissed his cheek and waved him away. "I'll be right there."

* * *

Botta listened to Kvar in a numb kind of shock. "Lord Kratos? A traitor?"

"Yes. He stole my Angelus Project and we are leading the search here, but you know your area very well. I want there to be no ground for him to go to."

"Yessir. I'll organize the search and figure out his most likely path."

"Excellent."

* * *

Lord Kratos proved to be quite difficult to find. It took nearly a month for Botta to track him down to an abandoned barn on the Asgard continent. Gutsy, staying so close to the ranch he'd robbed.

There was a woman with him. Terribly thin, her eyes blazing despite being sunk deep in her face. A monster stepped in front of her, the size of a small horse with a snout full of sharp teeth. The monster managed to take a decent chunk out of Botta's arm before he managed to defeat it.

The woman's arms shook with the effort to hold her dagger, but before Botta could get to her, Kratos entered the barn, naked sword red with blood.

_(He understands the stories now. No, Lord Kratos may not like violence, but he is skilled at it. Botta hardly makes it out of that barn alive, his ribs crushed from a Grave spell)_

* * *

"You neglected to mention the nature of the Angelus Project," Botta told Kvar over the monitor. He'd dragged himself out of his infirmary bed for this conversation and his pain medicine was wearing off. It made him grumpy.

"It didn't change your job," Kvar said.

"It absolutely did. A man protecting a woman moves very differently than a man alone. Particularly a malnourished woman." Botta didn't mention that he'd gone looking for more detailed information on the Angelus Project, but Kvar had those files locked up tight. He'd hacked his way in, had seen the full reports of the Angelus Project, and had promptly thrown up at what he'd read.

Botta was well aware of what went on in his ranch—how could he not?—but even those horrors paled in comparison to what Kvar had done to A012 in order to foster the Cruxis Crystal.

"Kratos will be taking extra precautions now. You will need to double your efforts," Kvar said.

"Lord Kvar, if I do manage to find him again, I took twenty men with me. Three of us made it back, and one of us hasn't regained consciousness. I refuse to throw my men at him like cannon fodder in the hopes that we _might_ capture him. I don't think we even have a cell that can _hold_ him."

"You don't get to make that call, Botta."

Botta set his jaw, eyes narrowing. "You're not my superior and I don't take orders from you, _sir_. I am responsible for these men and women's lives and I refuse to treat them like garbage."

He jabbed at the button to end the transmission, wincing at the sharp movement as the pain flooded from his ribs. It was worth it, he decided viciously.

* * *

Botta never expected to meet Lord Yggdrasill. The angel didn't have time to deal with people like him. But Kvar was in line to become leader of the Five Grand Cardinals; perhaps his word had been enough?

Whatever the reason, Botta came into his office, still moving stiffly from his recovering injuries, to find Lord Yggdrasill hovering by his desk.

"Lord Yggdrasill."

Pale blue eyes cut into him. "Hello. Botta, isn't it?"

"Yessir."

Yggdrasill's eyes went back down to the papers on Botta's desk, ones that he hadn't left there the night before. He recognized them, had drawn those blueprints out painstakingly himself. "I like what you've done with the defense systems here. Very thorough."

"That's what Lord Kratos said about it too."

Yggdrasill's lips twitched as though he thought about smiling. "I'm sure. I understand you led the search for him for this region?"

"Yessir. I take it you also heard about the aftermath of the search?"

"I did. Kvar was happy to inform me. I believe he is in the wrong, however."

"Sir?"

"You understand the odds very well. You're fortunate to have made it out alive. You were right in what you told Kvar—it would be a waste of manpower to go after Kratos like that again."

"…I'm afraid I don't understand where you're going with this."

"I am dedicating a small team of angels to track him down. They stand a better chance of surviving."

"And you came down here in person to tell me that?"

This time, Yggdrasill did smirk. "You _are_ clever. Your loyalty to your men is admirable, Botta, and you've shown exceptional dedication to our cause. It is no small feat that you managed to track him down, particularly in so short a time. However," Botta tensed at the subtle change in tone. "the part that impresses me is the fact that you managed to hack into the Cruxis mainframe to find information on the Angelus Project."

Botta stiffened. "And what does that mean for me, sir?"

"It means that I want you to begin working to find the holes in our mainframe security—since you clearly have a knack for it—and I want you to begin patching them. I expect regular reports."

"Of course sir."

Botta waited until Lord Yggdrasill had drifted from the room to release a sigh of relief.; his mother always did say that he had the devil's own luck. He'd never believed her until this moment.

* * *

Three years later, Magnius sat himself on the other side of Botta's desk, propping his feet up. Botta's lip curled at his boss's heavy, dirty boots on his otherwise clean desk, but he refrained from commenting.

"Rodyle was rather impressed with our security system."

"That does seem to be the popular opinion." Rodyle had always been on the outskirts of Cruxis, so it wasn't a shock that it had taken this long for him to see Botta's work. Personally, Botta trusted him less than Kvar. There was something slimy about him.

"He's requesting that you design the security for his ranch too."

"Isn't he a dragon tamer?" Botta asked, signing off on a prisoner transfer. "You'd think that between dragons and the natural defenses of his ranch, he wouldn't need such advanced security."

"Rodyle's always been a paranoid bastard."

"I'll do it, but it won't be immediate. I have too many things on my plate right now to devote the proper attention to it." Pronyma had reported having issues with her Cruxis clearance, and Botta was wondering when in hell he'd become the Desian's go-to IT department. All he knew was that he wasn't getting paid enough for this.

"Do you have an estimate when you're gonna start? I don't need Rodyle nagging me about it; if I wanted nagging, I would've married years ago."

Privately, Botta knew that the principal reason Magnius hadn't been married was because the Church wouldn't marry two men, even if they _were_ Grand Cardinals. The thing about working ranch security for as long as Botta had meant that he'd seen more than a few things he wished he hadn't, but thankfully, he was still able to look Magnius and Forcystus in the eye. "About a month, I imagine. Tell Rodyle that I will need detailed blueprints and maps of his ranch to do the job properly."

"Of course.

* * *

"You've been working longer hours," Irina told him, a basket of laundry on her hip.

Botta smiled a bit at her, though he was sure it came out as a grimace. "I'm near a breakthrough for Lord Yggdrasill."

"Still, you deserve a raise for all this work."

"Preaching to the choir." Botta knew that there wasn't really any higher to climb as a Desian, unless he felt like fighting for a position as a Grand Cardinal, which he had zero intention of doing. His pay was still well worth it, as Irina's breaths didn't come out rattling like he remembered.

It was spring, and the ocean was still icy in this part of the world, but Botta welcomed its touch on his bare feet as he knotted nets for one of their neighbors. Nets in exchange for some dinner was an even trade, he thought. They had the money to buy dinner, but Botta's mind was always in the 'what-if'. What if he was fired, or died? What if the money stopped coming? He kept most of it in a savings account at a bank in Palmacosta, heading out there once a month to withdraw a percentage of the money for the month. Irina liked to go with him those days, liked to catch up with old friends and drop in on their parents' graves.

The ocean was relaxing, Botta thought. Just the sound of the waves washing onto the shore was enough to lull him into an easy state of mind. He couldn't remember _not_ hearing that sound, remembered it slapping on the stone canals of Palmacosta growing up.

Thoda had significantly less people. The only real attraction was the geyser on the nearby island, and the world wasn't in a great state for tourism. Still, the proximity to the Palmacosta Ranch gave people work and good trade so that they managed to stay afloat.

Sometimes, the quiet grated on Botta. Coming from such a large city, the peace to be found in Thoda could be maddening. But peace was a good thing, he had to remind himself. No Desian raids in Thoda, not enough people to mount a rebellion against taxes. It was as peaceful as the world could get.

_(But Botta is not a man made for peace, he thinks. He was born in a storm and that, he thinks, is how he wants to die. Not in a blaze of glory, exactly—he is too old to think he's going to be a hero or martyr—but dying of old age doesn't fit right with the image he has of himself. That is for a different man, he decides)_

* * *

The information leak was traced very high up the Cruxis command. Botta thought, for an instant, that it was Lord Kratos, but no, there had been no activity from him in three years. And it obviously wasn't Lord Yggdrasill.

Lord Yuan. Botta hadn't interacted with him much. Lord Kratos had always been the one to deal with the ranches, but Lord Yuan had come sparingly since Lord Kratos' betrayal.

Was Lord Yuan a traitor as well? Had he helped cover Kratos' tracks? Possible. They had been comrades for four thousand years.

How to approach this conversation? Botta couldn't very well just march up to him and accuse him of being a traitor. He could put it in the report for Lord Yggdrasill, let him deal with it.

No. Not that either. Botta had only had the one conversation with Lord Yggdrasill, but there was something cold and cruel in him, something that had created this system of the ranches, of making them into Exsphere manufacturing plants. And that was to people he'd never so much as met. To a former comrade? Kratos was lucky because he'd left so unexpectedly that he was still on the run with A012. Lord Yuan wouldn't have that opportunity.

_(Botta is a believer in justice and vengeance both. He understands that they are not the same thing, but is being a traitor to Cruxis such a terrible thing? Look at the near endless list of sins to Cruxis' name. Look at the horrors that had been done to A012. People—humans or half-elves—don't deserve to be treated like that, and especially not on the whim of some sociopathic god)_

Encrypting his files took a great deal of finesse and time, but Botta believed it to be for the best. He didn't even have any solid evidence after all. Just links upon links in a chain that—by probability—led to Lord Yuan, but there was no solid, bright red arrow that pointed to him. He would sit on this information, keep an eye on it, and perhaps in the future, he would change his mind. But not yet.

* * *

It was a morning in September when Botta received the call from the Iselia Ranch. He didn't deal much with Lord Forcystus other than stiff greetings. He was one generation too late to have known Forcystus' heroics—with Magnius at his side, of course—but his uncle had fought with them—a hundred-and-twenty years back, and he remembered hearing about the rebellion that had overturned the Palmacosta continent and allowed the installation of Governor-Generals over the human tyrant who had ruled the area.

"We received information that Cruxis found Lord Kratos. My men have scouted the area, and we've found evidence of their residence in an old cabin deep in the mountains. Kvar and his men are en route, but I was told that you were in charge of the search."

"That's true, for this area. I believe the Iselia Mountains are well outside of my jurisdiction."

"And I believe that you are the type of man to see things through to the very end," Forcystus said quietly. There were some moments that Botta could see the inspirational leader in him. He'd been a good man, once. Not that Botta had any high ground. He worked for Cruxis same as him, watched the prisoners numbly. "And I also believe that had you been left in charge of the search, we would have found Lord Kratos much sooner."

"It will take me some time to get to you. It's nearly a two day trip to Palmacosta, and from Palmacosta out to Izlood is a four day journey. From Izlood to Iselia? Nearly a week's time, if I'm rushing."

"All true. Kvar set out on Wednesday, so he has quite the head start on you. But there is no need to travel to Palmacosta. I have a supply ship heading down to Thoda; they should dock tomorrow morning. They've been instructed to bring you back with them to Izlood, so that will save you a good three days' time."

Botta did the mental math. He would arrive at roughly the same time as Kvar. "That is acceptable. Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Forcystus."

* * *

Botta was unfamiliar with the Iselia Ranch, and being so high in the mountains made him a bit uneasy. He'd grown up in flatlands and oceans, with a horizon unbroken save for the lone, far mountains that were little more than fuzzy blue shapes. Being in the mountains made him feel caged.

"My scouts confirmed what the angels found. There is a cabin about two dozen miles east—" Forcystus pointed on the map spread out on the table. "According to tax records, it's been abandoned for going on thirty years now—but Lord Kratos has been confirmed in the area, as has A012."

"My men will take point on this," Kvar said. "It was my complacency that allowed Kratos to break the Angelus Project out of my ranch."

_(The Angelus Project—A012—has a name. Botta remembers reading it. Something commonplace. Ashley? Amanda? Annabel? It had started with an A. It probably says something about him that he can't remember it, but he remembers reading the horrors they'd done to her, and he thinks that for all the shit they've done, making A012 into a thing, without even a gender or a name, is one of the worst things they've done)_

"Lord Kratos is a formidable force," Botta said. "If he fights—and he probably will—he'll slaughter our forces."

"Which is why we aren't going after him. A portion of our forces will draw Kratos away from the cabin while the rest go to capture the Angelus Project."

"And after he's done killing our men, what's to stop him from turning around and freeing A012?" Botta challenged.

"You misunderstand me," Kvar said. "We're not taking back A012. We're taking back the Angelus Project."

It took Botta a moment. The Angelus Project itself had been a way to speed up the evolution of an Exsphere into a Cruxis Crystal. If they captured A012 and removed her Exsphere, the chances were high—incredibly high—that the mana in her body would go out of control and she would become a monster. "And you mean to leave her roaming the mountains in that state?"

"It won't last long," Forcystus said. "Lord Kratos has no reason to stay with the Angelus Project gone, but he will have to deal with the monster that is sure to come for him. He will be a familiar face to it."

"And she'll focus on that." Botta had seen that kind of monster before. Every now and again, a prisoner would ignore the stories from the older prisoners and would remove the Exsphere as an act of defiance. They became monsters and would—statistically—go for anyone they recognized. It was why Botta had suggested splitting families and neighbors apart, sending them to different ranches so as to minimize the chances. Those monsters, when they didn't recognize people, tended to be a bit more timid, though still capable of great damage if threatened. "Which leaves us time to get the Project to safety."

"Precisely."

"So why am I here?" Botta asked. "I see no reason for it."

"You are here for cleanup," Forcystus said. "Pronyma mentioned to me that Lord Yggdrasill had put you in charge of searching for the leak."

"Yes."

"Once everything is finished, you're to go to the cabin and see if Lord Kratos kept in touch with anyone, if he was sharing information. You are the one most qualified for the task."

So he was to be a scavenger, poking around the bones of the dead. "Yessir."

* * *

Sound carried well in the mountains. Botta heard the screams of the men as they were killed, heard a monstrous roar, heard the rockslide. And, long minutes later, he heard an anguished cry.

And everything fell silent.

* * *

The cabin was teetering, and looked like it would collapse at the slightest breeze. There were signs of a disturbance. Scrapes in the ground, bootprints, even a body. Botta crouched over the body; a knife to the ribs. It had been a slow death. He closed the body's eyes and continued into the cabin. There would be time for burials later.

The cabin must have been beautiful, once. Easily large enough for a family of—five, Botta decided, after counting the rooms. Most of them were in disuse, but the largest bedroom had been cleaned out. A large straw mattress with threadbare blankets thrown over it. Likely the blankets from the other rooms. A book on the nightstand. Botta found several outfits of clothes in the dresser, a woman's clothes.

And baby clothes. Botta tightened his grip on the doorknob when he saw them. There were little handprints in the dust too, and a pair of shoes large enough for a toddler by the bathroom door. No one had mentioned anything about a child.

There was a half a loaf of bread on the kitchen counter, still soft, and some salted meats hanging in the pantry. Botta fiddled with a locked cupboard, curious about the runes inscribed into it—they looked like a spell, but he'd never seen something like this—and when he managed to open it, found that the inside of the cupboard was cold. There was a flask of milk and some stray eggs inside. A triangle of cheese.

The dining table was rickety, and one of the legs was too short, being held up by a block of wood. There were drawings on the table, in charcoal. _(Botta remembers the way Irina had looked at the colorful crayons on display, remembers her begging Mama for them, but there had been no money. She'd made her drawings with charcoal instead)_

The photographs were the worst part.

They hung on the walls, there were some strewn on a low table. Some that hung in an extra bathroom, still being developed.

Angels were emotionless. Botta had known that, it was the whole point. You couldn't hate someone if you couldn't feel it. Theoretically. But there were photos where Kratos was smiling. One even caught in what looked like mid-laughter.

There were photos of A012. Much healthier than when Botta had seen her. The photos couldn't capture the spirit in her eyes, though. He didn't think he could ever forget that. But she had a dimple in her grin, and she proudly displayed a pregnant belly in some of them. Photos of her with a baby in her lap. Of Kratos holding the baby, looking incredibly tender. It made Botta feel like a voyeur, seeing these moments so personal.

There were photos of mountains and sunsets and open skies. Photos where raindrops had gotten on the camera lens. A lake.

Photos of a free world, Botta thought. A world that A012 had been torn away from. A world that she had never wanted to forget. That she wanted to treasure.

Botta forced himself to look away from the photos. He'd come to do a job. But there were no signs of any contact with Cruxis anywhere, no sign of Lord Yuan. Botta wasn't surprised; he hadn't expected Kratos to have run that kind of risk. _(Botta wonders if he'd fallen in love with A012 before or after he'd broken her out? Had he met her on a ranch inspection? Or had he been planning to betray Cruxis by interrupting their top research and love had just happened? Not that it matters. Look where it had gotten him)_

Cleanup, Forcystus had said. Botta knew what that meant.

He pointedly didn't look at any of the photos as he spread alcohol over the floor. He struck a match and threw it through the front door.

He didn't look away until it had burned to ashes.

* * *

He learned later that the mission had been unsuccessful. The Angelus Project had disappeared during the chaos.

The one thing that did go according to plan? Kratos killed A012 and returned to Cruxis.

When Botta heard that, he excused himself and was quietly, violently sick.

_(He remembers the photos. He doesn't think he will ever be able to forget them. He remembers that Kratos' eyes crinkle when he smiles, and the way he had looked at A012 and the baby. The fact that Botta doesn't know their names only makes him sicker. The world will never know about the brave woman with the designation A012, about the angel who loved her and killed her, and their little son)_

* * *

He wasn't sleeping well. He couldn't stop watching it burn. A child was crying. That fierce woman broken, eyes accusing him in his dreams.

Irina was worried about him, heard him when he wandered their apartment in the night, or when he closed the door behind him when he went out to the beach to try to calm his mind.

He hated keeping her awake. So he stopped going home as often. Stayed working as long as he could.

Botta re-hacked his way into the Angelus Project files. A012. Anna Irving. He refused to forget it this time. Did their child have a name? He had no way of finding out.

It was as he was covering his tracks through the Project that he got the idea, a mug of cold coffee halfway to his lips. He retraced his way through the leaks in information, paths he knew well from the dozens of times he'd looked through them. He'd never been able to trace them to their source, but he didn't need to. He left a message in the code. Maybe whoever the leak was would see it, maybe they wouldn't. Either way, Botta needed to do it. He needed to find a way to disrupt Cruxis.

He didn't want to see the burning anymore. Didn't want to hear the baby, or see Anna.

* * *

Three days later, Botta was working well past midnight again. Sleep was elusive, even if he tried. A few hours, maybe, and he would wake up more tired than he had been.

A knock on the doorframe made him look up.

"Good evening." A glance at the clock on the wall. "Or morning, I suppose."

"Lord Yuan."

The seraphim inclined his head. "Botta. You've been the talk of the Cardinals. Not all good, perhaps, but Kvar never has a good word to say about anyone, so I would take it with several grains of salt."

"Lord Magnius isn't onsite at the moment." He'd gone to the Iselia Ranch, and Botta was perfectly content to let him pretend that he didn't know why.

"I'm aware of that." Lord Yuan sat across from him, crossing one leg over his knee. "I came to speak with you."

"Concerning what, sir?"

"I've been told that you were put on the trail of the information leak."

Botta felt ice drip down his spine. "I was. It's been difficult; nothing solid yet."

Lord Yuan smirked. "Thank you. I put a great deal of effort into my work. Or rather, hiding my work; I'm glad it's being appreciated."

"Sir?"

"No need to play the fool, Botta. It doesn't suit you. I saw your coded message." Lord Yuan combed his hair out of his face with his fingers, a careless motion. "You could have—if not sold me out—made life very difficult for me by pointing a finger in my direction. It would have made your life easier at the same time, and yet, you didn't. Why?"

"…I don't think Cruxis is in the right," Botta said finally.

"Ironic, coming from the person responsible for much of their security measures," Lord Yuan said dryly. "Yggdrasill very much liked that misdirection idea. He's implementing it in the defenses of Derris-Kharlan and Welgaia."

"And that's ironic coming from a traitor," Botta shot back.

Lord Yuan's smirk widened for a moment before vanishing. "Guilty as charged. What made you think of Cruxis in that light? You were content to turn a blind eye to the prisoners in this ranch for—what, going on two decades now? A tidy paycheck lets you ignore quite a bit, doesn't it?"

It took a great deal of effort not to flinch at the venom in Lord Yuan's voice, subtle as it was. "The Angelus Project."

He didn't expect to see Lord Yuan's jaw tighten at the name. "What about it?"

"I was instructed to find Lord Kratos after he stole it—broke her out."

"And you succeeded, if I remember correctly."

"I don't count that as a success," Botta said quietly. "Eighteen men lost their lives that day. One will never walk again."

"You have a loyalty to the people under your command. That's a good thing. Was that your wakeup call? That Cruxis doesn't give a damn about the means because the end is always justified?" There was a darkness in those green eyes, eyes that were too old for the face. Four thousand years was a long time, Botta thought. How much had Lord Yuan seen? How much had _he_ turned a blind eye to before choosing to betray Cruxis?

"It was the start of it," Botta confessed. "I broke into the files on the Angelus Project."

"Impressive. Those were highly classified."

"The things done to Anna were—"

"Inhumane doesn't begin to cover it, does it?" Lord Yuan said softly.

"'Monstrous' does."

"I know. I've read the files too. She was—one of the strongest women I've ever met."

"You met her?"

The curl of the angel's lips was bitter, self-deprecating and full of grief. "You're looking at the godfather of her child."

Botta let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'd say it has nothing to do with you, but that tastes of a lie. I find little point in apologies, however." Lord Yuan uncrossed his legs, leaning forward. "You say you believe Cruxis to be in the wrong? Then do something about it."

" _I can't._ "

"Can't or won't?"

" _Won't_ ," Botta snarled. "The only way my sister gets her medication is from the blood money that _I_ earn. I won't have every damned thing I've ever done go to waste and let her die."

_(There is something of Martel in him, Yuan thinks. A survival and protective instinct so powerful, it's willing to overlook terrible sins. Well, not just Martel. It's a Yggdrasill trait through and through, Mithos and Martel both. Yuan has it himself, and so does Kratos. They'd all said "Damn the world" if it had meant that there's a possibility of seeing someone they love alive and happy one more time)_

"You don't have to. Now, the Renegades don't have the money that Cruxis has, but we can get your sister the medicine and doctors she needs."

Botta stilled. "The doctors say it's incurable. That she'll have it for the rest of her life."

"Maybe so. But that's what the doctors in Sylvarant say. Tethe'allan medicine is more advanced. They might be able to cure her. They might not."

"So I go to work for you, my sister gets her medical treatment?"

"Yes."

"And what happens when Cruxis goes after her? When they realize what I've done?" Botta can see the flames now, and Anna's accusing eyes are turning into Irina's. "They'll kill her."

"We won't let that happen. You've worked a good twenty years for the Desians."

"That's nothing for a half-elf."

"True. But it's been a hard twenty years. And I'm sure there will be no problem clearing you for an early retirement after all you've done. And a move to warmer climates. For your sister's health, of course."

Botta remembered just how far Lord Yuan's influence went. He could facilitate it all. "How warm a climate?"

"Hottest place in the world. Very dry. Good for the lungs."

No ocean. No mist in the mornings. No stormy season. To get away from Thoda, and the ranch. Botta didn't know how to even picture it, but it sounded wonderful.

"Do you have an opening?"

Yuan smirked. "Welcome to the Renegades."


End file.
